I Don't Need You
by Katina Wellson
Summary: When you need someone, it takes a lot of work to not need them and a long time to realize you do. Fred/Hermione.


**Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. Thank you, goodbye.**

**A/N: This is just a little drabble that popped into my head a while ago and I just decided to finish it today. This is my first shot at a F/HG, but I've been taking notes from all the ones I've read. The best one I've found so far is 'Till There Was You' by Bella O, who is simply an amazing author and deserves full credit for turning me into a F/HR shipper. Check out her story.**

**Also check out** **my** **other story, Emotionless, which i really **_**should**_** be working on now.**

**I Don't Need You**

"Tell me you don't need me and I'll leave. I'll be out of your life if you just say it."

She swallowed hard. "I don't need you," she sat on the couch, a marble rolling haphazardly through her hands.

He stared at her, blue and brown battling in a fiery war. He exhaled softly. "Okay." He turned his back and walked toward the fireplace.

He was gone in an instant and she dropped to her knees on the floor, her head in her hands and her heart in her stomach.

He landed in his flat and threw himself on the couch covering his face with his hands. He waved his wand at the walls to seal them from emitting sound. Then he screamed. He screamed for several moments then he relaxed, smacking his head, muttering at his stupidity.

* * *

"Welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. What can I—" his voice broke off. "Oh. Hello."

"I needed to see you," she stepped towards him so they were merely inches apart. "Can we talk?"

"Please—please don't do this to me," He said softly, inhaling her strawberry and vanilla scent.

"I can't sleep at night. It's been three weeks and I can't get you out of my mind," she stepped closer, grabbing his hand, their fingers automatically intertwining.

"Please," he sighed, her touch sending jolts of electricity running through him. "I…I've moved on,"

She dropped his hand as if it had seared her. "I'm sorry?" she said as if she hadn't heard him correctly. Of course she hadn't heard him correctly. Of course he hadn't just suggested that he was sleeping with another woman already.

His normally smooth face was laced with soft lines of stress that creased his forehead and chin. He seemed distant even at her touch. She also noted that his clothes were wrinkled and his voice was tired and strained.

"I'm sorry," he stepped backwards a little bit, gauging her sweet features as she processed the information he had fed her. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and her voice sounded a bit hollow. He glanced at the small nose that he remembered sweetly kissing, and the wisps of small hairs that he had so often swept from her forehead. She was biting the left side of her bottom lip, making her lips all but disappear. If she was hurt…he couldn't tell. This was best for both of them, he had decided. So what if that decision had been made at three in the morning at a pub in whatever city he had been in that night? So what if the reason behind it was childish and spiteful? He had made a decision and he wasn't going back on it.

"Right," she took a deep breath. "Of course," She had adopted her mask again, the one he had worked so hard to take off. She smiled brightly, her eyes even giving off a slight glow as she stepped backwards towards the door. "Right then. See you around." She smiled again before turning to walk out of the door, her perfectly straight white teeth flashing the most dazzling smile he was sure he had ever seen. He did, however, notice that the smile did not quite reach her eyes—not the way that it used to.

The bell on the door signaled an exit. "Thanks for visiting Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. May all your pranks be pulled off smoothly. Come again soon," He whispered to no one in particular.

* * *

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." Her tone was icy and laced with sarcasm.

"I'd like to speak with the Minister," he mumbled. His hair was hanging in his face and he made no attempt to wipe it away.

He looked bad. Actually, she admitted, he looked like hell. His hair was longer than usual and stubble covered his chin. His clothes were torn in various places, and a long line of blood ran across his nose, covering the sprinkle of freckles that ran right under them.

"Well…" she smiled politely but with no sympathy to his current state. She consulted the clock and proceeded to rifled through drawers until she found a book. She opened the day-to-day calendar and flipped through pages almost completely black with names and times. Finding the correct page, she ran her finger through and nodded every so often. "Mhmm," she nodded again, and then looked up at him after glancing at the clock. "It should be about three hours, sir." Her tone conveyed no recognition of the person before her, and it was not all a lie. She knew who he once was. She knew who he used to be.

"Three hours!" he exclaimed, slamming his hands on the desk and leaning over it slightly, inching towards her.

She recoiled at his outburst. "I would ask you to keep your voice down, sir. This is the office of the Minister of Magic."

His upper lip twitched with displaced anger. "Three hours?" he offered at a lower tone.

"I'm sorry, sir. Traditionally, an _appointment_ to see the Minister is made prior to one's visit. Unfortunately today's agenda is rather full." She kept her eyes down, don't wanting to chance the sight of his ragged appearance again.

He took a deep breath and straightened himself upright. "Alright. Thank you, ma'am," his brow creased slightly as he gazed at her quizzically, silently questioning her.

She responded by turning away back to her files and beginning to sift through them. "If you would kindly tell me what business you have with the Minister…"

"I need to speak with him."

"Yes, I gathered as much," she said icily, not trusting herself to see him like this. She didn't even know what he had been doing the past year—let alone why in the name of God how he had wound up in this filthy state. This was better for both of them, she had decided.

"I think that should be adequate."

"Adequate does not help me keep my job, _sir_."

"It's a personal matter of business," he sighed tiredly, giving up the spat. "I'd like to discuss plans for business marketing in America. Is that sufficient?"

She nodded curtly. "Please take a seat _sir_ and the Minister will be with you shortly."

He nodded. "Thank you ever so kindly, _ma'am_," his voice was icy with contempt at the conversation that had just transpired between them. She always was the one who could make him tick.

He regretted the words the moment they escaped his mouth. She glared at him with something akin to dislike.

_

* * *

Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._

She sighed with impatience and glared at the door. She had almost finished a file she had been working on when the knock on the door of her flat had jolted her out of her trance. "Coming," she called, setting the files down meticulously and crossing a few paces to the door. She unbolted the lock and opened the door. "Oh my God." She promptly shut the door and leaned her back against it, her breathing sporadic.

"Open the door," he pleaded gently.

"I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Won't." Her breathing was even more uneven now with the thought of him still standing there.

"Open the door," he commanded softly.

She took a deep breath and opened the door again. "What do you want?"

"You," he said simply, stepping past her into the flat. It displayed mauve-colored carpet and cream sofas with a red armchair contrastingly placed in the corner. There was one small bookcase that held less than ten books in the corner by the armchair, and a floor lamp beside that. It was not an exquisite flat, but it suited her. The only thing that didn't, he concluded, was the mess of papers that littered the coffee table. And the kitchen table. And the armchair.

"No."

"We need to talk."

"No," she sat down on the sofa and resumed picking through the current file.

"Don't act like this is all my fault."

"Why?"

He was getting slightly irritated. He paced behind the sofa, stepping into the kitchen and swiftly moving through the rest of the flat. "Because…because it bloody well isn't!" he said, resolving to pace behind the sofa again. He glared at her brown eyes with curiosity. Their sparkle was gone. Their love and beauty and inquisitiveness was absent. Had he done that?

"Because…because…Goddamnit, you broke my heart too!" he said loudly. His words cut through the air and straight to her skin, slicing her composure into tiny pieces.

She tried to smile at him. She felt the familiar prickling in her eyes, but forced herself not to cry—not in front of him. She was stronger than that. She looked up at him then back to her papers. She had been eyeing him since he walked through the door. He looked better than their previous encounter at the ministry. She remembered being particularly cold to him. His hair was more kempt now, and he was cleanly shaven and sported, she noticed, particularly nice muggle clothing. She tore her eyes away to stare at the books that had been collecting dust for quite a while. She sighed exhaustedly.

Finally rising from the sofa, she crossed to the man in her flat. She looked into his blue eyes sadly. All the playfulness, the fun, the spunk, the…_him_ was gone. Had she done that?

"I know," she said almost inaudibly. She couldn't look at him anymore. The memories were flooding back, threatening to overwhelm and engulf her. "Please leave," she started towards the pile of papers again.

He stepped towards her and grabbed her forearm. "No," he said fiercely.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, not believing her ears. She tore her arm away from his grasp.

"I _said_ no," he whispered, pulling her close.

She stepped back further, the feeling of being so close to him overcoming her body. "Please," she gasped. "Please," she felt wetness on her face. His thumb gently wiped her cheek and his hand settled on the back of her neck, their foreheads threatening to touch. The heat from his hand sent shivers down her spine and she tried to pull away again, but only half-heartedly. "I can't do this now. I have a career. I have people who are counting on me—"

"I counted on you."

"I have people who need me—"

"I needed you."

"No you didn't. And you certainly don't now."

"I do."

"Well…I don't need you." she said, attempting her best defiant tone.

His hand fell away from her. "I think you're lying."

She looked at him, remembering the hurt and the pain of loving someone. She couldn't bear that again. It was a package deal: the good times always ended in pain and heartache. There was never one without the other and she wasn't ready for another broken heart.

"Are you lying?" he asked, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

"I don't know," she whispered, collapsing into his arms with a shaky breath and weak legs.

He supported her with strong arms and led her to the couch where they both sat in silence for several moments. Her head leaned delicately on his shoulder, his world hanging in a moment. As he stole a look towards the girl resting her tired head on him, he couldn't help remembering her when her face glowed with mirth at his jokes. He couldn't help remembering that small dimple at the right corner of her mouth when she smiled at him.

She stirred. Her gaze that had been boring a hole into the door faltered and she sat up, her eyes quickly assessing his face. She mustered up all the strength she had left and looked at him expectantly.

He breathed deeply, carefully. "Are you lying?" he asked again, rising to his feet. He helped her up carefully.

She placed her hand on his chest and felt his heart beating rhythmically. She looked up at his face, searching for an answer, a promise—anything to assure her she was not making the same mistake again. She leaned into him, their bodies pressed closely together, her hand still feeling his heartbeat pulsing faster now, more in sync with her own.

"I think so."

**

* * *

**

**A/N: Every once in a while, I like to go back and edit my stories. This is one such instance.**

**Reviews still welcome, and thanks for reading!**


End file.
